Laugh Lines

Really, really bad day

This is said to be a true story, as reported in a Florida newspaper.

A man was working on his motorcycle on the patio. His wife was in the kitchen. The man was racing the engine, and somehow the motorcycle slipped into gear. Still holding the handlebars, the man was dragged through a glass patio door and, along with the motorcycle, dumped onto the floor.

The wife, hearing the crash, ran into the dining room, and found her husband lying on the floor, cut and bleeding, the motorcycle lying next to him, and the patio door shattered.

The wife ran to the phone and summoned an ambulance.

Because they lived on a hill, the wife went down several flights of steps to the street to direct the paramedics to her husband. After the ambulance transported the husband to the hospital, the wife set the motorcycle upright and pushed it outside.

Seeing that gas had spilled on the floor, the wife grabbed some papers towels, blotted up the gasoline and threw the towels in the toilet.

The husband was treated at the hospital and released to come home. After arriving home, he looked at the shattered patio door and the damage done to his motorcycle. Despondent, he went into the bathroom, sat on the toilet and smoked a cigarette. After finishing the cigarette, he flipped it between his legs into the toilet bowl.

The wife, who was in the kitchen, heard a loud explosion and her husband screaming. She ran into the bathroom and found her husband lying on the floor. His trousers had been blown away, and he was suffering burns on the buttocks, the back of his legs and his groin. The wife again ran to the phone and called for an ambulance.

The same ambulance crew was dispatched, and the wife met them at the street. The paramedics loaded the husband on the stretcher and began carrying him to the street. While they were going down the stairs, one of the paramedics asked the wife how the husband had burned himself. When she told them, the paramedics started laughing so hard, one of them tipped the stretcher and dumped the husband out. He fell down the remaining steps and broke his arm.

Political spin

In her amateur genealogy studies, the wife of a man running for a high political office discovered that her husband’s great-great-uncle, John Smith, was hanged for horse stealing and train robbery in Tennessee in 1889.

The only existing photograph showed him standing on the gallows. On the back of the picture was this inscription: “John Smith, horse thief. Sent to Tennessee Prison 1883, escaped 1887. Robbed the Tennessee Flyer six times. Caught by Pinkerton detectives, convicted and hanged in 1889.”

After letting her husband’s staff of professional image consultants review the discovery, they took the following actions to assist the political campaign. They cropped the great-greatuncle’s picture and, with image processing software, scanned it into only a head shot. Along with this enhanced photo, the accompanying biographical sketch was drafted:

“John Smith was a famous cattleman in early Tennessee history. His business empire grew to include acquisition of valuable equestrian assets and intimate dealings with the Tennessee Railroad Co. Beginning in 1883, he devoted several years of his life to service at a government facility, finally taking leave to resume his business enterprise with the railroad. In 1887, he was a key player in a vital investigation conducted by the renowned Pinkerton Detective Agency. In 1889 Smith regrettably died suddenly during an important civic function held in his honor when the platform on which he was standing collapsed.”

Bedside manners

Susie’s husband had been slipping in and out of a coma for several months. Things looked grim, but she was by his bedside every single day. One day as he slipped back into consciousness, he motioned for her to come close to him. She pulled the chair to the bed and leaned her ear close to be able to hear him.

“You know,” he whispered, his eyes filling with tears, “you have been with me through all the bad times. When I got fired, you stuck right beside me. When my business went under, there you were. When we lost the house, you were there. When I got shot, you stuck with me. When my health started failing, you were still by my side. “And you know what?” “What, dear?” she asked gently, smiling to herself.

“I think you’re bad luck.”

Laugh Lines is compiled from various sources, including reader submissions and websites. Origins are included when known.

Lisa Denton